


Seeing Is Not Watching

by PuzzledHats



Series: A War in the Stars [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ADWD spoilers, F/M, Tyrion Lannister/Sansa Stark - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-20 08:09:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuzzledHats/pseuds/PuzzledHats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon married Shireen in name only, in an attempt to save her from being manipulated and used as the last known heir to the Iron Throne, keeping her in hiding while he fought the Others at the wall. </p><p>Seven years later, when Jon's true heritage is revealed and the battle with the Others over, the small council decided what was best for Westeros was for the marriage to stand.</p><p>--An ASOIAF Fic set in outer space, sort of. Sci-Fi--</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a follow up to my Arya/Gendry Fic, Watching Is Not Seeing. I first introduced Jon/Shireen there and can't seem to let them go! This story will start up in the middle of the previous one, so it might be beneficial to read Watching Is Not Seeing first, but I've tried to make it so it doesn't matter. I've linked it as series, should you feel the need to go back and read the first one. 
> 
> In a perfect ASOIAF world, I would want Jon with Val. But when the show decided to cast Shireen, I began thinking she might have a bigger end game then we know. Then I started thinking about how sad Shireen's life is, how I just want her to be with someone who is kind and could look past her scars. Plus, I'm a pretty big Jon fangirl. 
> 
> Thus, my Jon/Shireen shipping was born. Hope you like it:)

It had been Jon’s idea. News of the Dragon Queen’s invasion of Westeros had reached the intergalactic space station, known as the Wall. Jon had come to her, explaining that the Queen had offered Dragon level ships to assist with his war against the Others; the Wall was no longer a safe place for her.

“You’re the last known legitimate heir to the Iron Throne,” he explained. “I swore to your father I would protect you. I’m going to send you in to hiding with your mother’s men.”

She only nodded, wondering if the bad news would ever stop coming. Her father had died the month before, her mother two weeks later. She was alone in the world and now she would be sent away from Jon.

“Putting you in hiding isn’t enough. You won’t be safe if anyone ever found you. I think I’ve found a solution,” he said. “I plan to marry you.”

Her heart leapt in her chest.

During her first week at the Wall, her mother had demanded Jon meet with her. The meeting did not go well. She could only look on in amazement. For the first time in her life, Shireen had seen someone stand up to her mother and she had fallen, helplessly, hopelessly in love with him.

In her wildest daydreams, she dreamt of one day marrying Jon. Of somehow finding a way to make him look at her, the way he looked at Val.

At his announcement however, her mother’s men, including her Great Uncle Alester roared in outrage. They had all spoken over each other, barely listening to Jon explain that a marriage to him would mean no one else could get their hands on her without legal repercussions. No one could use her against her will.

“I’ll not have a bastard marry my niece!” Alester yelled. “You would defile the Baratheon name, not to mention, she is only a child!”

“I would never consummate the marriage,” Jon said in disgust. “When she is of age and an appropriate match can be found, I’ll quietly divorce her.”

Her heart sank; he didn’t want her. He would only marry her out of duty. She felt like crying but instead had slumped down in a corner while the men decided her fate.

_Be careful what you wish for._

Shireen Baratheon wanted to laugh, but couldn’t seem to muster the energy.

The following day found her being led to the large mess hall, it was packed with Wildlings and former brothers of the Night’s Watch. Jon Snow stood at the center of the room with the Melisandre, the red priestess. When they reached Jon, the entire room quieted down.

“Two come forth today to join their lives, so they may face this world’s darkness together,” Melisandre said, raising her hands above her head.

Shireen stopped listening, instead turning to look at Jon. She suspected he thought the priestess was full of as much shit as she did, but he was doing a much better job at hiding it. Having Melisandre perform the wedding ceremony was the only way Jon could convince her great uncle to agree to the marriage.

The ceremony wore on.

She didn’t know who had sewn the bride’s cloak that now hung around her shoulder, but wasn’t sad to see it go. Jon was gentle as he unfastened it, before carefully placing his cloak over her shoulders. His cloak was still warm from his body, smelling of him, it trailed on the floor behind her.

Shireen had wished for this day a thousand times, never knowing that when it came it would be a falsehood, a mere mummer’s trick.

They signed the official documents before Jon led her from the hall away from the wedding feast that would happen in her absence. When they reached the loading bay, he pulled her away from the rest of the men as they boarded the ship waiting for him. He placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to look up in to his face. He looked tired, exhausted even.

“Shireen,” he began. “I swore to your father I would do everything in my power to keep you safe. If you ever have need of anything write to me and I will come.”

She nodded, an overwhelming feeling of sadness settling over her, wondering if she would ever see him again.

A look of sadness passed over his face as he observed her, before it was replaced with a smile. He leaned in conspiratorially toward her, “Would you do me a favor?”

“Anything,” she said, quickly.

“As you know, my sisters are missing,” he said. “I miss writing letters to them and receiving theirs in turn. When you’re at the Wall, it’s nice to know what is happening in the universe you’re defending. Would you write to me?

“About what? I won’t be doing anything exciting like you, taking on the Others,” she said.

“Then I will write to you all about the Others. You can write to me all about your new home, which of your mother’s men are your favorite, which are the most annoying. Tell me anything and everything,” he said, smiling. “Trust me, it helps.”

“I will. I’ll write as often as I can,” she said, glad to be able to help in whatever way possible. But happier that she would still get to hear from Jon, even if it was only in letters.

He then walked her back to the doors of the ship, telling her good bye, that he was looking forward to her first missive. Just as she was about to board the ship, she paused, running back to him throwing her arms around his middle. She wasn’t sure what possessed her to do it.

“Thank you, Jon,” she said, pulling back to look up at his face. “Please don’t die.”

He smiled down at her sadly before mussing her hair with his hand.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said.


	2. Chapter 1

There had been no time for feasts during the war or in hiding. This one was by far the biggest she had ever attended It was giving her a headache. Or maybe it was making small talk with all those around her at the table. Too many inane conversations where people tried desperately not to look at her scar.

She shifted, wanting to stretch, but ended up hitting the man beside her. When she looked up to apologize she was met with grey eyes, causing her to completely forget what she had been about to say.

Jon Snow had only gotten better looking in the last seven years. His hair was a little longer, his muscles more pronounced and Shireen routinely found herself for a loss for words in his presence.

“It’s all a bit much, don’t you think?” Jon asked, smiling.

She only nodded, wishing she could form words. It was _all_ a bit much. The small council thought having a large feast to celebrate their renewal of vows would help everyone accept the marriage. Shireen just found the whole thing exhausting.

Someone in the crowd yelled “Bedding!” and soon the cry was taken up by the room.

Jon grimaced, sending a shot of shame through Shireen. She wondered just how much humiliation she could take this evening. Knowing that her husband found bedding her repulsive was one thing, but now everyone wanted to undress her in public. She shuddered at the thought.

“Oh, look she’s ready for you, Snow!” someone yelled in the back, mistaking her shudder for anticipation.

Jon stood. Shireen looked at her lap, wishing she could control the blush on her face. But then Jon’s hand came in to view, grabbing one of her hands, pulling her up. He leaned in close, Shireen wondered how one man could smell so good and whether or not she was going to faint.

“Trust me. I have a plan,” he whispered in her ear. He turned his attention back to the room. “You can have your bedding!

The crowd roared, surging forward. But Jon held up a hand to silence them, stopping them all in their tracks.

“You can have your bedding, if you can catch us!” He yelled. Quick as flash, he dipped down, throwing Shireen over his shoulder and made a dash for the door closest to them. She could hear people yelling behind them.

Dangling upside down, she wasn’t sure where they were going. They were in a hall, Jon was practically running, before he stopped abruptly. She could hear him entering numbers on a keypad, he slid through the door when it opened, quickly closing it behind them. Leaving them in complete darkness.

He turned back around, bending over until her feet touched the ground and she could stand on her own. When he righted himself, he didn’t move back. She could feel his breath on her face. Involuntarily she took a step back, coming flush against the door. He followed her. In the dark she heard him shift, one of his hands gently grabbing her arm, then he leaned in even more, his chest coming in direct contact with her breasts.

“Shhh,” he whispered in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. His breath tickled her neck. “We’re in the supply closet. Hopefully none of the janitors are helping in the search because they are the only other ones who know the code to get in.”

“Oh,” she sighed, almost moaning. He hadn’t moved back when he finished talking. Shireen was resisting the urge to move her hands up to hold him.

“We’ll wait here until the coast is clear,” he said, his voice lower, more guttural. She felt his nose graze her cheek. He shifted, causing friction on her nipples.

She moaned.

Her eyes shot wide open, embarrassment flooding her body, suddenly very thankful for the darkness hiding her blush. Glad she couldn’t see his undoubtedly horrified face.

He laughed low, rumbling his chest, causing more friction between them. Shireen felt a hand on her shoulder, moving to her neck, up to caress her face with his thumb. His other hand moved to her waist, pulling her against him while also pressing her more firmly in to the door.

His nose nudged her cheek again, then her nose. Shireen thought this might be the best dream she had ever had.

“Try the supply closet,” a voice yelled from the other side of the door.

The spell was broken, Jon shifted back putting space between them, removing his hands. Leaving Shireen thankful for the support of the door at her back.

Shireen knew, in the dark he had momentarily forgot her disfigured face.

The commotion outside the door died down, when someone pointed out they didn’t have the code. They heard the footsteps trail off down the hallway.

“It should be safe, we’ll stick to the less used hallways,” he said, his voice back to normal.

He grabbed her hand when they were once again back in the hallway, pulling her along behind him. Shireen didn’t pay attention to the route he was taking her, only staring at their joined hands. _I could get used to this._

Once they were safely in their room, he dropped her hand in order to secure the lock.

“That should keep them out,” he said, turning to smile at her.

She smiled back, dropping her eyes to his feet.

“Thank you for saving me from the bedding. I have been dreading it all day,” she said, glad the words all came clearly.

“It’s a stupid tradition,” he said.

Neither of them moved. Shireen began to wonder if he was waiting for her to undress. She was unsure of how to proceed.

Being unable to take the suspense, she looked up. He was gazing at her, his face softer moving his eyes over her entire body before making eye contact again.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, a slight smile on his face.

The tears came fast, a sob escaped her mouth. She couldn’t hold it in so she wept. Her whole body shook. She covered her face with her hands, mortified that he would see her crying.

He had called her beautiful, thinking it would reassure her, comfort her. He had said it out of pity, out of his kindness. The lie hurt. So she cried, unable to understand why it cut so deep. Wishing they were back in the supply closet, where it was dark and Jon had momentarily forgot about her disfigurement.

Suddenly arms were around her; he pulled her in close to his body, resting her head on his chest, rubbing a hand soothingly down her back. She let him hold her as she cried out her frustration. Eventually the tears subsided, her breathing regulated. He pulled back, gently cupping her face with his hand, his thumb wiping away tears on her cheek.

“We’ll wait,” he said. The confusion must have shown on her face, because he motioned toward the bed with his head. “We will wait until you’re more comfortable around me, less scared.”

He thought she was crying over the bedding.

“But,” she started. The small council had made it clear: the marriage needed to be consummated. They had even had her examined, confirming her virginity; stating they would also need the sheets from the wedding night. The council wanted to make sure that the legitimacy of their marriage could never be questioned. They had even made it clear that they expected her to be pregnant within the next two years. It had been one of the most awkward conversations Shireen had ever endured.

“Don’t worry about the small council. I have an idea,” he said, smiling mischievously. Shireen wanted to smile back, feeling a shot of happiness that they were conspiring in something together.

He went in to his closet, coming back a few minutes later, beckoning her closer to the bed where he was throwing back the sheets. He held a small knife. He held out his hand to her, instinctively she placed her hand in his.

“Do you trust me?” He asked.

“Yes,” she said, without hesitation.

He flipped her hand over, in the very center of her palm he used the knife to make the smallest incision. Blood pooled in her palm, then he moved it, turning it over, smearing it on the white sheets.

“I would have used my blood, but knowing the small council they’ll probably test the DNA,” he said, pulling her hand up, not letting it go.

Grabbing a tissue, Jon carefully attended to the cut until it had stopped bleeding. He looked up at her, smiling.

“They’ll never know,” he said, releasing her hand. He turned from her, grabbing one of the pillows from the bed, throwing it on the floor, reaching to grab the blanket at the end of the bed, before she understood.

“You can’t sleep on the floor,” she said, thinking fast. “Everyone will know. You have to sleep in the bed.”

He paused, looking at her carefully. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with that?”

“Of course,” she all but yelled, a little too quickly. She could feel her face blushing. He continued to look at her, assessing her. He nodded once before bending over to pick up the pillow.

Later, when the lights were out, after they had both settled on their sides of the bed, he spoke. He told her about when he was little, still at Winterfell, how his brother Bran would sneak in to his room to sleep with him whenever there was a thunderstorm.

“Sleeping with Bran was always the worst, because he kicked,” he said, she could hear the laughter in his voice. “Do you kick, my lady?”

“Shireen, please call me Shireen,” she said, laughing. “I do not know if I kick, but I once had to share a room with my mother who snored so loudly. Do you snore, ser?”

“Jon, please call me Jon,” he said, his voice teasing. “I do not know if I snore. I guess we will both know by morning. But I warn you: if you kick, I kick back.”

“Fair warning,” she said, giggling slightly. “But I feel the need to warn you, Jon. If you snore, I kick back.”

He let out a bark of laughter. Shireen fell asleep that night with a smile on her face.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so this chapter might be a little annoying if you haven't read the first story. I apologize, but since this one is just a continuation of the last one I felt the need to address the whole Arya/Gendry thing.

The news of Arya and Gendry running off together, effectively ending her betrothal came as a shock to no one. Trystane Martell wondered aloud at dinner one night why it had taken them so long. He was angry to have lost a bet he had made with Tyrion. Trystane had assumed it would only take her a week before she came to her senses, Tyrion had been correct in guessing two.

Jon received regular updates from both Arya and Gendry, who had decided to meet back up with Gendry’s salvage ship. Sometimes, Jon would bring his hand-held to bed so he could read the letters to Shireen, knowing how much she enjoyed hearing of their adventures as they toured the universe.

After the coronation, Jon and Shireen fell in to a pattern. They sat in on almost every small council meeting. Outside of the meetings, they rarely saw each other during the day. Jon was busy helping King’s Landing run smoothly, whipping the gold cloaks into shape; while she kept her eye on all of Westeros. Occasionally they would share meals together, but more often than not Shireen ate in her office, too busy pouring over various documents to join the rest of the household for meals.

It was only at night, in the dark, that they spoke freely. Shireen would ask him to retell her some of her favorite stories from the letters he had written to her from the Wall. It surprised her, when Jon would in turn ask her about some of her letters; begging her to retell the story about how Uncle Alester got kicked in the face by a goat, laughing out loud at all the right parts.

Sometimes they laughed about the antics of various court members, other times they discussed what had happened in the small council meeting that day. Jon would tell her why a decision she had made was good; he was discerning, often pointing out a repercussion she herself had not seen. Mentioning on a few occasions how nice it was to have an intelligent monarch.

In the dark Shireen would beam with pride, she never stuttered or tripped over her words, leaving her eagerly looking forward to their nights together.

Jon once again offered to arrange private self-defense lessons for her, but she declined.

“I do think it would be beneficial for you to know some basics,” he said, trying to convince her one night as they lay in bed.

“I would feel uncomfortable learning from anyone but Arya,” she said.

“What about me? Would you let me teach you?” He asked.

“I suppose,” she said, unsure. “I just don’t want anyone to see.”

She heard him moving, leaving the bed. He turned on the lights.

“Come on,” he said, gesturing for her to get out of the bed. “I’ll teach you in here. No one will know.”

Reluctantly she did, wishing he would turn the lights back off. He retrieved the knife he had used on their wedding night, handing it to her, suggesting she might want to keep it on her person at all times.

Jon had given her his knife, she would keep it with her always.

He started with basic disarming moves, before teaching her what to do if someone attacked her. He put his arms around her, showing her how to use her whole body against an assailant. They had been practicing for a little over an hour, when Jon proclaimed she was a natural.

“Anyone would be a fool to even attempt to hurt you,” he said, sounding serious.

“Anyone would be a fool to even attempt to hurt me with you around,” she said. “I remember watching you train at the Wall. You would always take on two or three opponents at once. I thought you must be the best fighter in all the universe.”

“The best? I can think of a few people that would disagree with you,” he said, laughing. “I didn’t know you watched the practice room.”

“Oh,” she said, blushing. “You were so busy, being Lord Commander, you rarely noticed me, even when I was right in front of your face. Plus, you only had eyes for Val.”

He looked down, staring at a spot on the floor.

“I had thought for sure you would marry her when the Night’s Watch disbanded,” she continued, finally getting the courage to ask. “Why didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t marry her, I was married to you,” he said.

“No,” she pushed. “The Night’s Watch ended a whole year before we married.”

“Val was never mine,” he said.

“Yes, she was. I saw you two, together,” Shireen paused, but decided to confess anyway, ignoring the blush spreading over her face. He was looking at her intently now. “One night, when I couldn’t sleep. I was wandering the halls. I saw you together in the equipment room.”

She stopped there, knowing no further explanation was necessary, when Jon broke eye contact with her. She felt like it had happened yesterday. She had walked in to the room because she had heard a noise, only to discover Jon laying on the ground, Val sitting on top of him, moving up and down. They were both naked. Shireen had been unable to look away until Jon had reached up, pulling Val down for a long kiss. The tender moment had broke her out of her trance. She had ran, hiding under her covers, feeling nothing but jealous of Val.

Blushing, Jon rubbed a hand across his face.

“I didn’t know you knew about Val,” he said. He looked uncomfortable.

“Everyone knew about you and Val.”

“Val and I-” he trailed off, not looking at her.

“Did you love her?” She asked, dreading the answer.

“At the time, I thought I loved her,” he said, meeting her gaze. “But now I know that wasn’t love, just lust.”

“Did you love Ygritte?” She asked, unable to stop herself. She had wanted answers to her questions for a long time.

“How did you know about Ygritte?” He asked, looking genuinely confused.

“I overheard Tormund talk about her once. He said you had a taste for Wildlings,” she said, embarrassed that her extensive knowledge of Jon’s life was coming to light.

“I was only a teenager when I was with Ygritte,” he said. “I loved her the way anyone loves their first girlfriend.”

“Where is Val now?”

“She left shortly after you did,” he said. “When I made it clear nothing more would happen between us, that I would be keeping my marriage vows.”

“You mean, you haven’t,” she stopped, unable to finish the thought.

“No,” Jon said, looking annoyed. “I swore a vow. I would not dishonor you like that.”

Shireen said nothing. She had always assumed because it was a marriage in name only that he would have continued to see Val.

“Is that why you’re asking about the women of my past?” He asked.

She only shook her head, searching for any answer other than the truth. She had asked because she wanted to know if he was still in love with them. She wanted to know what they had done to make him care. Wondered if she could pick up any tips, if maybe he would one day care about her, the way he cared about them.

“No, I do not know why I asked,” she lied.

Jon nodded, before turning and getting in to bed, ending their training session. She followed, turning out the lights, thankful for the darkness once again.


	4. Chapter 3

Sansa was the first to warn her.

“I know it’s not my place,” Sansa said, timidly. “But as you are now family, I thought I should tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Shireen asked, silently happy to have Sansa call her family. It had been so long since she had a family; let alone family that would come to her with such concern in their voice and on their face.

“I overheard the Master of Whispers tell Tyrion, he doesn’t think you and Jon have consummated your marriage,” Sansa said, blushing.

“How would he know?” Shireen asked, feeling panicked. They were both blushing now.

“The walls have ears in the Red Keep. I only tell you because if the small council thinks there is a chance the marriage is in danger, they might get involved,” Sansa said, pausing. “Is it true?”

Shireen nodded, her shoulders slumping.

“Is it-” Sansa started. “Are you frightened?”

Shireen thought about explaining about the wedding night, how Jon had mistook her crying for fear. She decided against it; someone as pretty as Sansa, would never understand why being called beautiful could hurt.

“Yes,” she lied. “Jon knew I was apprehensive, so he said we could wait.”

It had been almost three months, Shireen wondered just how long he intended to wait.

“You have no reason to be scared,” Sansa said, her blush now spreading to her neck. “In fact, it can be very enjoyable. It’s only the first time that hurts. I have no doubt Jon will be gentle.”

Shireen only nodded. She never doubted Jon would be gentle.

The second warning came when Shireen overheard one of the maids talking to one of the guards. She told him that their sheets gave no indication of intimacy. The guard had only laughed.

Shireen began to worry that all of King’s Landing would know soon. She brought it up to Jon that night, once the lights had been turned off.

“Do the walls have ears?” She asked.

“Huh?” He said.

“I’ve heard people are gossiping about us; that we haven’t consummated the marriage.”

Jon’s lack of response was all the answer she needed.

“You knew people suspected and you didn’t say anything?” A shot of anger ran through her; she couldn’t believe he would keep it from her.

“I didn’t want to upset you or make you feel any sort of pressure. We will wait until you’re ready, until you feel comfortable,” he said.

“Jon,” she said, deciding it was time to confess. “I am not scared of having sex with you. That was not why I cried.”

“Then why were you crying?” He asked, confusion in his voice.

“You won’t understand,” she said.

“Try me.”

“I know you’re a good man Jon. I know you mean well,” she said. “But to call me beautiful is cruel. I will never be beautiful. I have accepted it and being reminded of my lack of beauty only re-opens the wound.”

“You thought I was lying,” he said, there was a tone in his voice she could not recognize.

“I know you were lying,” she said. “I’ve been called ugly my whole life by people who thought my scars had somehow impaired my hearing.”

“You think you’re ugly,” he said, laughing.

“Are you laughing at me? I know I am ugly,” she said, suddenly feeling angry. “You forget, I’ve seen Val. I know what your measure of beauty is."

“No,” he said, his voice serious. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at the fact you think you’re ugly.”

“I-” she started, but he cut her off, talking over her.

“Listen to me,” he said. “I think you’re beautiful. You can refuse to believe me or call me a liar. I don’t care, none of that changes the fact that it’s true. But even if you had the world’s ugliest face, I would still think you were beautiful because I measure a person by their soul, not their face.”

She had no response to that. He sounded genuine but too many years of cruel comments resounded in her head.

“If word is spreading that we haven’t consummated the marriage,” she said, changing the topic to avoid having to respond to his statement, deciding to be blunt. “Then we’ll have to have sex.”

“You’re not ready, Shireen,” he said, sounding resigned.

“I just told you, I’m not scared,” she said. “I’m ready.”

And she was ready, sleeping in such close proximity had only increased her desire for him. She had started having very vivid dreams of the two of them together, she always awoke to find herself aching with desire.

“You’re not ready,” he said. “Shireen, you barely even talk to me, let alone look at me. The only time we seem able to have a conversation is at night, in total darkness.”

“I just-” she started, before stopping herself. How could she explain to Jon how he made her feel. How just looking at him sometimes caused her mind to go blank. That when he was in her presence, he was all she thought about. That only in the cover of darkness, could she find her wits enough to speak clearly.

“We will wait until you’re more comfortable,” he said, attempting to end the conversation.

Shireen seriously doubted she would ever be completely comfortable in Jon’s presence, but she was Queen and this marriage had to work for the sake of Westeros. She got up, moving over to turn the light on.

Jon sat up, blinking in to the sudden brightness. She walked over to stand by his side of the bed, looking down on him.

“Here I am talking to you, looking at you without the comfort of darkness,” she said. “This is more than just you and me. This is about what is best for Westeros. This marriage has to work. We have the power to end years of strife between our families. We can’t have anyone calling it into question.”

He leaned back on his hands, looking her full in the face.

“If I tell you I’m ready, then I am ready,” she finished, wanting to fidget under his gaze but knew doing so would be a mistake.

He didn’t say anything at first, only continued to look at her. Then he stood up slowly, straightening to his full height. She tilted back her head in order to maintain eye contact. His hand came up to cup her scarred cheek, then he leaned in, his lips just barely brushing hers. He increased the pressure slightly, his other hand moving around to her back, pulling her against his body; deepening the kiss, using his tongue.

He pulled back, looking her in the face.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “You said you were ready, I should not have doubted you.”

Her only response was to pull him to her. The kiss was less gentle, more urgent. Shireen only wanted more; losing track completely giving in to the feel of his hands on her body, touching, pulling, caressing.

“Can we turn the light off?” she asked, when he moved to take off her nightgown.

“No,” he said. “Your body has been haunting my dreams. I want to be able to see you, all of you.”

Then he kissed her, silencing any uneasiness she felt.

She ended up on the bed, devoid of clothing. His hands made her moan, writhing beneath him. She felt one of his long fingers dip in to her easily, his thumb working wonders. She peaked, moaning his name.

He growled, low in her ear, before moving his body between her legs.

“There is nothing I can do about the pain,” he said, positioning himself, slowly moving into her. She could feel herself stretching, trying to accommodate him as he reached her maidenhead. “But it will get better, I promise.”

She nodded vaguely, before wrapping her legs around him, putting her hands on his ass, using leverage to pull him in fully. There was a sharp pain. Jon buried his face in her shoulder, freezing completely.

“Seven hells.” She heard him murmur in to her hair, before he pulled back to look her in the face again. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she said, wanting to reassure him. “Just a little pain.”

He nodded, then he began to move. It felt strange at first, but gradually, slowly it got better, slowly building. She tried to meet each of his thrusts, wanting to take all of him. He kissed her deeply, then buried his face in her hair as he came. He moved to roll off of her, to relieve her of his weight. She wouldn’t let him go, holding on to him with her arms and legs as tightly as she could, never wanting the moment to end. Silently loving that in some small way, he belonged to her.

When he did finally move off of her, he pulled her with him, settling her head on his shoulder. She saw clearly then, the scar right above his belly button, where the knife had been. She traced it with her finger.

“I was so frightened that night,” she said.

“I was too,” he laughed. “Or I would have been if I had been conscious.”

“I begged my mother to let me see you, then I begged Melisandre. No one would let me go,” she continued. “Finally, after they had all gone to bed, I snuck out to see you in the sick bay. You were sleeping, unusually pale; I took one look at you and cried my eyes out. I stayed as long as I could, praying to both the old and new gods for your safety.”

“It must have worked,” he said. “No need to worry.”

“No,” she said, moving to sit up, in order to look him in the eye. “I’ve never been more frightened. I knew the Wall would never hold without you. I knew the fate of humanity was in peril.”

“Someone else would have taken my place and probably done a better job.”

“No,” she said again, not willing to back down. “Even I, at ten, knew you were the only one who could hold it all together. You saw things my father never could. The Others would have taken over the entire galaxy, if it wasn’t for you.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve such faith,” he said, his voice low, his eyes never leaving hers.

Uncomfortable with the stare, she shifted back to lay on his shoulder, once again tracing the scar. She was unable to give him an answer, not without revealing her utmost secrets.


	5. Chapter 4

The next morning, Shireen woke up feeling slightly sore. Jon was gone, but on the bedside table was a small pain pill, a glass of water and a moon tea packet. She picked up the moon tea packet, flipping it over in her hand. She got dressed quickly, took the pain pill and with the moon tea packet in hand, went in search of Jon. She found him in his office, screens lining the wall showing various supply demands and trade agreements.

When he saw her enter, his face froze for a moment before breaking in to a small smile.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Shireen forgot why she had come. The sun glinted through the window, throwing the sharp planes on his face in to contrast. Not for the first time, she found herself wondering how fate could be so cruel to give her what she wanted without really giving it to her at all. 

“Are you-” he paused, walking toward her slowly, his expression taking on a guarded look. “Are you alright? How are you feeling?”

He looked at her expectantly. She willed herself to form words. Embarrassed that the man in front of her had literally been inside her the previous night, yet in the light of day all coherent thought left her in his presence. 

“Shireen,” he said, one hand reaching out to gently cup one of her elbows. He sounded genuinely concerned. When she still didn’t respond, his hand slid down her arm, finding the moon tea packet there. He looked at it, comprehension dawning on his face.

“I know what the small council said,” he explained. “But I thought I would give you the option of waiting until you feel you’re up to having a child. It is a big responsibility after all, on top of ruling an entire planet. I do not want to overwhelm you.”

“Do you want children?” She asked, wondering where her voice and the question had come from.

“Yes,” he laughed. “I do, very much. Joining the Night’s Watch, I never thought I would have a family. Yet, I always wanted one.”

“Because you loved your own family growing up, your brothers and sisters,” she finished for him.

“Yes,” he said, looking at her questioningly. “Do you want children?”

She looked down at the moon tea packet in his hand, feeling a wave of sadness wash over her.

“I know nothing about having a family,” she whispered.

He said nothing, one of his hands reaching out and grasping hers tightly. After several moments, as she waited for the tears swimming in her eyes to clear, he spoke.

“Sometimes, I think I have failed your father.”

She looked up at him, the question evident in her gaze.

“He asked me to protect you at all costs, but look what it has cost you,” he said, his voice sad. “I was too preoccupied to notice just how lonely you were. I should have known better. I abandoned you when you needed me most.”

“You did not abandon me,” she said, quickly, loath to think he would ever feel guilt about her. “You kept me safe, protected me, you wrote letters to a silly little child. My mother’s men only spoke around me; you actually spoke to me. You have no idea what that meant.”

A small smile formed on his lips, he looked as if he was about to say one thing, before changing his mind and the subject.

“I confess,” he said, placing the moon tea packet back in her hand. “I also thought that maybe we could wait. Have time to form a family between us, before we brought someone else in to it.”

She could not help the smile that crossed her face.

A week later, they traveled to White Harbor to attend the wedding of Trystane Martell and Wylla Manderly. The wedding was a raucous affair, with plenty of ale and dancing. Rickon asked Shireen to dance first, throwing her around the dance floor with grace she didn’t know he possessed. From then there was a string of faces, leaving her laughing, gasping for air. Then the music slowed and she found herself in Jon’s arms.

“Having fun?” He asked, smiling.

Maybe it was the ale or the adrenaline from dancing, but Shireen pulled him in close with courage she didn’t know she had, letting one of her hands rest on his neck, slowly scratching the skin.

“I didn’t know dancing could be such fun,” she confessed. 

“Me neither,” he said, the tone of his voice dark. “I’m afraid I might get in to a fight tonight.”

“Why?” She asked, taken off guard.

“Because,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially, smiling. “All the men have been staring longly at you all night. I’m glad this isn’t a Wildling wedding or I’d be scared one of them would try to steal you.”

“Oh please,” she laughed, the idea ludicrous. “If they stare, it’s because they see the queen making a fool of herself on the dance floor.”

“Don’t think I didn’t see Edric Dayne’s hand a little bit lower than was at all appropriate,” he said.

She only laughed, shaking her head.

“You are gorgeous,” Jon said, quietly and Shireen believed him. She smiled shyly. They had not been together since the first time. She was just getting up the courage to ask him why, when she felt a pull on her dress, looking down to Tyrion.

“Your Grace, I hate to bother you at such a time, but I’m afraid it can’t wait,” he said, motioning with her hand to follow him. She glanced at Jon, to make sure he was coming with her, before following Tyrion.

Wyman Manderly stood before a large desk, looking disdainfully at the back of a tall man, with short, blond almost white hair. The mystery man was staring out the window, looking down on White Harbor. 

“Your Grace, I’m very sorry to disturb you with this news, but Lord Tyrion and I thought it couldn’t wait,” Manderly said, coming forward to give a quick bow. “May I introduce Aegon Targaryen.”

At the sound of his name, the man turned around, revealing an astonishingly beautiful face; deep purple eyes, thick black lashes, cheekbones that could cut glass. He smiled at her, before falling in to a deep bow.

“Aegon Targaryen is dead,” Jon said, from behind her.

Tyrion’s only response was to hand Jon the small DNA machine, confirming that in fact the man before them was the long thought dead, Aegon Targaryen, Jon’s half brother.

“I am sorry to disrupt such a joyous event,” Aegon said standing up to his full height, smiling slightly. “But I had thought it best to approach you here, instead of walking into the King’s Landing unannounced, lest my sudden reappearance be misconstrued as an attempt at the throne.”

Shireen was at a loss for words. She stared at his face, this man who by all rights could declare himself king. She looked for signs of Jon, hoping to find something that might lead to her trusting him.

“Are we to believe you have no designs on the Iron Throne?” Tyrion asked, the disbelief obvious in his voice.

“I come, because I am the last living,” Aegon paused, his eyes drifting over Shireen’s shoulder at Jon, “legitimate Targaryen. I thought I might be of assistance.”

“Assist us how?” Asked Tyrion.

“I hold no ill will toward my half-brother,” Aegon said, the smile on his face growing. “In fact, I look forward to getting to know him better. He is my last living relative after all.”

“But?” Jon asked when Aegon paused.

“But he is still illegitimate,” Aegon said, his smile faltering. “When Westeros hears of my existence, they will rally behind me.”

“You would start the war again?” Shireen asked, finally finding her voice. Westeros was just starting to mend, to regrow; she couldn’t stand by and watch it fall apart again.

“No,” Aegon said, his voice serious. He stepped forward, his hand reaching out to her. “I would never wish to continue this ridiculous feud between our houses. It has gone on long enough. Westeros has suffered too much.” 

“I agree with you,” Shireen said. “Ending the feud between our families is paramount for Westeros’ safety.”

“I’m so glad to hear you agree with me,” Aegon said. “Which is why I proposed a marriage alliance between the last living Baratheon and Targaryen heirs.”

“I’m already married to a Targaryen,” Shireen said, stepping back in to Jon. She felt him place his hand on the small of her back.

“You are married to a Snow,” Aegon said.

“Westeros loves the two of them together,” Tyrion said. “Legitimate or not, their approval ratings are off the charts.”

“Westeros does not know about me,” Aegon said. “I would be willing to bet my claim to the Iron Throne, that all the citizens of Westeros would back me, over Jon.”

Shireen stepped forward at that, ready to tell him that she would only allow that over her dead body but was stopped by Jon’s hand on her shoulder. She turned to him, he gave her the tiniest of head shakes before he dropped his hand and moved in front of her.

“I am pleased to meet you, brother,” Jon said, extending his hand. Aegon looked for a moment like he would reject it, before giving in, shaking Jon’s hand.  “I’m afraid you’ve caught us off guard. Why don’t we retire for the evening and discuss this further once we’ve all returned to King’s Landing tomorrow. I’m sure Lord Manderly can find you a room.” 

“I look forward to it,” Aegon said, moving to follow Manderly out the door. He paused before Shireen, grabbing her hand, bending over slightly to press a kiss to it. “Especially getting to know you better, Your Grace.”

Shireen glanced over at Jon, noticing how he clenched and unclenched his hand. Once Manderly and Aegon were gone, Jon turned on Tyrion, the anger evident on his face. 

“You knew he was still alive.”

“Yes, I did,” Tyrion said, cowering slightly at Jon’s rage.

“That’s why you wanted to make sure we consummated the marriage quickly,” Jon spat. “Because you wanted to make sure Aegon would have a more difficult time ending it.”

“Yes,” Tyrion said. “I met Aegon while I was on Essos. I had no way of testing his DNA so I wasn’t sure if he was real or not. When Dany took over Westeros and needed an heir, but Aegon didn’t come forward, I thought he must be a fake, unable to pass the DNA test.”

“But you knew he was out there still?” Jon asked.

“I knew there was a very good chance he would reappear,” Tyrion said. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you, with your blasted Stark honor, would never have stayed in the marriage, deferring to the stupid legitimate Targaryen.”

“You’re right,” Jon yelled. “Because he’s right. Westeros only accepted me because I’m the last Targaryen, they would have preferred a legitimate one. It would have meant a more stable throne for Shireen.”

“Wrong,” Tyrion yelled back. “It would have meant a more stable throne for Aegon. It would be Aegon’s throne. We would have ended up ruled by Targaryens again, exactly where we started.”

The fight seemed to go out of Jon, his shoulders slumped forward.

“He could easily restart this war,” Jon said. “He could tear apart Westeros, if he wanted, after all we’ve done to rebuild it.”

“The public will never stand for it,” Tyrion said, with a confidence Shireen wasn’t sure he deserved.

“What makes you so sure?” Jon asked.

“Because you’re half Stark,” Tyrion said. “Your father might have been a Targaryen, but you’re Ned Stark’s son. Seven Hells, you’re the spitting image of him, a man they loved and still mourn. Not to mention, they loved Jon Snow long before they knew you were half Targaryen. Where was Aegon when the Wall needed defending? Westeros will stand behind you.” 

They stood there, staring at each other. Shireen glanced between them, hoping Tyrion was right.

“Let’s hope you’re right,” Jon finally said. “Because I’m not giving her up.” 

“I know,” said Tyrion with a nod. “Believe me, I know.” 

Jon stared at Tyrion a moment longer, before turning to Shireen, grabbing her hand, pulling her out the door. Not waiting for the members of her Queensguard to catch up. He didn’t let go until they were back in the room Manderly had given them to use.

She stood just in side of the closed door, watching as he paced the length of the room. He didn’t say anything, just kept pacing, clenching and unclenching his hand.

“I’m sure it must be very overwhelming to learn your brother is still alive,” Shireen finally said. “It is weird to know you had family out there all this time, yet didn’t know they exist. That’s how I felt when I found out about Gendry.”

He looked up at her in confusion, almost as if he’s forgotten she was there. He only shook his head.

“Don’t worry,” Shireen went on. “I’m sure Tyrion is right. Westeros loves you. You literally saved the entire Universe. They will back you, I know it.”

He only continued to stare at her.

“I would never marry him,” Shireen said quietly, dropping her gaze from his.

He walked forward then, not stopping until his hands were on her face and she was pressed up against the door. He kissed her deeply, pressing his tongue in, not waiting for her to open her mouth. She gladly met his intensity.

His hands came up the bodice of her dress; pulling, ripping it apart in one motion leaving the tatters to pool around her feet. He growled when he saw she wore no bra. He sucked, licked and kneaded; Shireen could only groan, trying unsuccessfully to get him to stand up and kiss her properly. He kissed his way down her stomach, felt him slowly pull her underwear down.

She expected him to stand then, to take her against the door, she spread her legs in anticipation. But he didn’t stand up, instead his head moved between her thighs giving her a quick smile before lowering his mouth to her.

Shireen screamed his name, unable to form coherent thoughts, having not known anything could feel that good.

When Shireen finally came down some time later, Jon picked her up, depositing her on the bed. He moved in behind her, pulling her back to his chest, wrapping an arm around her.

“I would never let him have you,” he said quietly, before beginning all over again until they were both sated.

Jon had been right the first time, it only got better.


	6. Chapter 5

In the end, Tyrion was right, they didn’t have to worry. Unbeknownst to all of them, Tyrion had filmed the entire conversation of Aegon threatening war, unless Shireen agreed to marry him. He leaked it to every news outlet on Westeros.

The outcry was immediate. They returned to King’s Landing the following day to see a crowd at the gates, demanding that Queen Shireen remain married to Jon. The polls commissioned by the small council were all over 95% in favor of upholding the marriage. 

Jon found her in her study, holding out his hand-held for her to read. It displayed a rather brilliantly written article about the benefits of having a half-Stark, half-Targaryen King assisting a Baratheon Queen; concluding with a funny paragraph detailing just how awful it would be if Aegon ever gained power.

“I suppose I owe Tyrion an apology,” Jon said, leaning against her desk, smiling.

“I love this article. Thank you for showing it to me,” Shireen said. “Mind if I save it to my drive?”

“Go for it,” Jon said, gesturing at his hand-held. “I came to look at the Iron Island treaty anyway.” 

He moved to the far wall, where the treaty was being displayed on a screen, turning his back on her.

She quickly saved the file, clicking to get to the main page of his hand-held, she had just finished transferring the file to her drive, when she noticed it. There on the front page of his hand-held, in the top left corner was a file named ‘Shireen.’ She clicked it open without thinking about it. 

It contained her letters, every last one of them, categorized by year, then month. She opened the first one, reading her childlike scrawl as she told Jon about her journey to her temporary home. Next she opened the last one, reading her perfect calligraphy, as she agreed that she and Jon should remain married.

He had kept them, all of them. She looked up at him, observing him unseen. She glanced back down at the hand-held, clicking for more info about the folder. It had been created on the same day she had sent him her first ever letter.

“You kept my letters,” she said out loud, causing him to turn and look at her questioningly. She held up the hand-held, showing him the open folder with all her letters. 

“Of course I kept them,” He said with a shrug. “They were my one tie to the outside world. I was sad when you stopped writing.”

She had stopped writing not long after she turned sixteen, coming to the conclusion that he had only asked her to write the letters in order to make a scared little girl feel better. He always wrote her back, nice long letters asking for more details about her previous letter; telling her about various battles and political intrigue going on at the Wall. She thought he had done it to humor her.

“I thought you only did it to make me feel better,” she confessed. “I realized it was selfish of me to take up your time with stupid stories about my mundane life in hiding, when you were fighting for your life daily.”

He stepped forward, looking sad.

“I think there is a lot you don’t understand about me, Shireen,” Jon said.

Ashamed, Shireen looked down at his hand-hold, wanting to apologize, wishing she knew everything about him.

There was a tap on the door, thankful for the distraction, she said, “Come in.”

Tyrion and Aegon entered. Shireen stood to greet them, glad that Jon moved around the desk to stand at her side. They both bowed to her.

“Your Grace,” Aegon said. “I see my earlier request has not gone over well with Westeros.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Tyrion muttered. Aegon shot him a look before continuing.

“I have no wish to further my claim,” he said, his voice subdued almost sounding exhausted. “I do not have the heart for war and am tired of fighting.”

Shireen doubted he had ever been in a fight, but decided now wasn’t the best time to challenge him.

“What will you do now?” Shireen asked, pulling her shoulders back, holding her head high, every bit the Queen.

“I have no home, Your Grace,” he said. “I had hoped I might stay here while I plan my next step.” 

Shireen wanted to tell him to get the Seven Hells off of her planet. But she was a Queen and he was still a Targaryen who could make things difficult.

“You may stay,” Shireen said, feeling Jon shift next to her. “But if I think you’re planning anything at all, I will personally see to your physical removal from my planet.”

Aegon stared at her a moment, appraising her before he nodded his head in acquiescence.

After dinner that night, Shireen left the crowded hall where everyone talked only of Aegon, for the quiet solitude of the gardens leaving her Queensguard behind. The light was fading, as she rounded a corner to see Sansa and Tyrion before her, half hidden in a small alcove in the hedge. Sansa sat on a bench, Tyrion stood before her. Their hands were clasped together.

Shireen was about to make herself known, when Sansa burst out in laughter, throwing her arms around Tyrion bringing him in for a kiss. A kiss that quickly escalated, as she watched Tyrion’s hand disappear beneath Sansa’s skirt.

Blushing, Shireen turned to leave, running in to Jon. He held up a finger to her lips to silence her, before grabbing her hand and pulling her off to the side. Once they were out of ear shot of the couple, he laughed. Shireen joined him, thinking how nice it was to laugh with someone. Once their laughter died down, they continued walking together aimlessly.

“Do you think she will ever love him?” Shireen asked.

“I think they are growing to love each other,” Jon said. “Which isn’t surprising.”

“Is it not? I had heard rumors about Sansa and the Hound,” she said. “That they were in love. Does she not miss him?”

Jon stopped walking, turning to look at her.

“Yes,” Jon said. “Sansa did love Sandor. Maybe she still does. But just because she loved him, doesn’t mean she can’t learn to love another.”

“But he will always be her first love,” Shireen whispered. “Tyrion will always come second.”

“I doubt that. Sansa and Sandor had a whirlwind affair that burnt out very quickly, all lust, from what I understand,” he said, his voice low, measured. “She and Tyrion have been through much together. They both sacrificed. That sort of commitment can build something much better than lust ever can.”

She wanted to ask how he knew, but settled on continuing their walk, silently contemplating commitment and love. Shireen wasn’t sure she believed him; she knew she was only capable of loving him, no one else.


	7. Chapter 6

It had been a stupid idea to follow him, she knew that now. But she couldn’t stop herself. Shireen had seen Aegon slip through the door, leading to below the keep. She hadn’t thought much of following him, only knowing that his actions looked suspicious. He had not gone to the dungeons, instead going down a long corridor where the ancient dragon skulls lay. Shireen had stayed in the shadows, overhearing as he met with an unidentified man.

She had stayed quiet, listening as Aegon made the deal: a million gold dragons for Shireen’s death. The man had only nodded, before saying it would be done as soon as payment was received. When the man disappeared in to the dark, Shireen had turned intending to find a member of her Queensguard, but in her haste she had tripped, alerting Aegon to her presence. He attacked her immediately.

_I’m going to die._

The thought came to her in a small moment of clarity, before her mind went out of focus again. She shifted, pulling the knife from her pocket, flipping it open as a hand reached around her waist. With out thinking she stabbed at it, before turning to push it cleanly in to the neck of her opponent, before pulling it sideways, creating a huge gash.

Aegon’s purple eyes shot up in surprise, as he lifted his hand to the cut, vaguely attempting to stem the gush of blood. He fell to his knees, then flat on his stomach.

Shireen turned, vomiting barely able to hold her hair out of the way, dropping the bloody knife in the process. She heard shouting, hands grabbed at her. She whirled around in panic, searching for the knife but was met with grey eyes.

Jon was saying her name as she collapsed, fainting.

When she woke up, sometime later she was in her own bed. She felt sore all over. She groggily sitting up, wanting water for her parched mouth. Jon shot up from where he had been sitting by the side of the bed, assisting in giving her the cup.

“Is he dead?” She asked, her voice dull and inflectionless.

Jon only nodded. She nodded back at him, before falling back on to the bed in a dreamless slumber.

The next morning she attended the small council meeting. Jon sat by her side, holding her hand under the table as she told them what had happened. The small council remained silent as she told the tale, briefly going into some detail about the fight that had ensued. When she was finished she sat quietly, letting the small council talk around her, not noticing that Jon didn’t speak either.

In fact, it took her several days to notice that Jon was not himself. He barely spoke to her, or even looked at her. The only time he really addressed her at all was at night, when she would wake from her nightmares. He would hold her close, telling her over and over again that he was there, that she was safe, that he would never let anyone hurt her.

After several weeks, the nightmares began to fade, but Jon’s distance did not. Finally, one night as they were getting ready for bed in silence, she spoke what she had been unable to say.

“I am sorry for killing your brother,” she said to his back. He froze where he stood, not turning to look at her. “I know you can never forgive me, but I want you to know I am sorry all the same.”

He turned then, staring at her, his mouth hanging open slightly. She felt tears welling up in her eyes, despair settling in around her as she told herself for the thousandth time that he would never truly be hers.

“I don’t care about him,” Jon finally said, his voice low, anger simmering just below the surface. “I care about you.”

“But-” she started, before stopping gesturing her hands in futile attempt to ask why he had been so distant if it had not been for love of a now dead brother. He took a step forward, anger now radiating out from him, his fist clenching and unclenching.

“You could have been hurt,” he yelled, towering over her. She had never seen him lose his temper before, for the first time understanding his Targaryen side. “You could have been killed.”

“But I wasn’t,” she said, stepping back.

“You never should have gone after him. You knew he was not to be trusted.”

“I had to know what he was doing,” she whispered. “I had no other option but to follow him.”

He didn’t seem to hear her though, continuing on his rant, letting weeks of frustration finally free.

“I can’t believe you thought you could take him on by yourself. Are you crazy? You must be. I can’t believe you didn’t think to call for one of the Queensguard! I can’t believe I’ve fallen in a love with such a reckless woman! What would Westeros have done without you? How do you think the planet would have survived!”

She stopped listening, her head suddenly buzzing.

_I can’t believe I’ve fallen in a love with such a reckless woman!_

She pinched her arm, she didn’t wake up. He had actually said he loved her. She shook her head, trying to focus, trying to wrap her head around it.

“Shireen. Shireen!” Jon yelled, moving to place his hands on her shoulders, shaking her slightly, bringing her out of her trance. “Are you even listening to me?”

“You love me?” She asked, unable to say anything else.

His hands dropped from her shoulders, taking a step back. She didn’t know it was possible, but he somehow looked angrier.

“Of course, I love you,” he spat. “How could I not?”

“Because-” she started, her hand involuntarily moving to her scar.

She watched as all the anger left his body. He stepped forward, his hand moving to cover her own where it lay against the scar. His other hand around her waist, pulling her to him. She tilted her head back, keeping his gaze.

“I love you, Shireen,” he said sincerely. “I love _you_.”

“I don’t think anyone has ever loved me,” she whispered, ashamed.

“I love you,” he repeated, placing kisses on her forehead, her nose, her cheek. “I love you.”

Then he went about convincing her that he loved her. He worshipped her body, whispering admirations against her skin; leaving her in no doubt about his affections.

Hours later, when Shireen was convinced of his love, as they both lay staring at each other; she confessed.

“I’ve always loved you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is the end. Jon and Shireen live happily ever after ruling all of Westeros. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for all the support on this crazy journey of shipping such an out there ship!


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